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"Still . . . you\'ve suffered so many injuries on your back, and your hand . . ." Rain\'s voice trailed off.

He cursed his own weakness, believing it was the reason everyone around him suffered in their efforts to protect him. If only there were a manual for instant strength — he needed it desperately.

Thraigar laughed Rain\'s concern off, his booming voice echoing in the night. "It\'s nothing serious. Though I can\'t move it just yet, I can still be useful with my other hand."

Isn\'t it serious, then? Rain thought, appalled at Thraigar\'s lack of concern for his own safety. "You should go back to the Oasis and rest."

Thraigar\'s face grew stern as he shook his head with conviction. "No, my friend. If there\'s a fight, a Goliath must be in the thick of it. It\'s dishonorable to stay safe behind walls while your comrades lay down their lives against the enemy."

Huh? Is that their slogan or something? Rain thought.

"Besides, they once captured me and made me their puppet; now, it\'s time to repay the favor," Thraigar continued. "More than that, I feel it\'s my duty to stop them. My hometown lies just to the north, and I can\'t let them march there unchecked."

"Is that so? Maybe we can see your tribe then."

"They are farther up north, but who knows?"

Anyway, don\'t get yourself in harm\'s way," Rain advised. "Now that Lord Izumi has lent us 1,000 Ebizo soldiers, we can attack from a safe distance. Their hard shells will serve as our shield while we volley attacks from the back."

Thraigar nodded. "Don\'t worry, my friend Rain. Thraigar knows not to rush headlong into a battle he know he will lose. Haahaahaa!"

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I don\'t know about that, Rain mused to himself.

=======

Meanwhile, the Orcs were preparing to meet the Hobgoblin forces on the barren plains away from their homeland, specifically in the Gate of the Iron Maw.

Ten thousand Orcs against a 100,000-strong Hobgoblin army.

"Are we really going to be alright?" General Helliana asked, her voice tinged with worry. Her skin was a deep green with a bronze hue, and her hair, red as the setting sun, was braided tightly.

For Orcish women, it wasn\'t unusual to be warriors in their clan. If they could contend with men, they could have a place in the Orc\'s army.

General Helliana\'s might as a Hunter was unparalleled. She wielded a great bow with precision and was knowledgeable in the ways of the Tamer as well. She led the heavy infantry atop her mount, Amber, a formidable bronze war mammoth.

General Thorgar\'s nostrils flared with indignation. "They may have the numbers, but we have the strength. One of us is equal to a hundred of those wretched creatures. I say the numbers are about even."

General Frukin, a shaman whose face was never seen except by Warchief Kargoth, spoke. They said she was as old as the times when the Orcish clan was established in the wasteland.

"Eheeheehee . . . such young ones, but their brains are already rusty. They don\'t even know how to count," she cackled, her voice felt like a cat in a blender.

General Thorgar crossed his arms, his face turning red with embarrassment. "You do the counting, granny. You know what I mean."

General Grommash, a somewhat lanky Orc, remained tight-lipped about the approaching battle. He was a fierce fighter, and his silence spoke volumes.

This would be their first-ever large-scale battle since the founding of their clan in the wasteland, where they had to eliminate other inhabitants to reclaim the lands.

As the night wore on, the Orcs gathered around their war council, the flickering firelight dancing on their grim faces.

"Judging by the Hobgoblins\' march, they will reach the Gate of the Iron Maw by morning. We hold the line there and reduce their numbers as much as possible," Warchief Kargoth declared.

The Gate of the Iron Maw was a vital defense erected by the Orcs to fend off attacks from Gnolls, Lizardfolk, and other hostile races in the south. Positioned near the heart of the Barren Wasteland, the Orcs had constructed gates to their south and north, fortifying their territory against invaders.

Due to limited resources, the gate stood only ten meters high, built from boulders and reinforced with iron, which was not the best material to withstand a prolonged siege. Despite its modest height, the Orcs had fortified the walls and sealed the gate with additional boulders in the little time they had.

"Have you sent the message to the Sand Elves?" Warchief Kargoth asked.

"Yes, but they haven\'t replied. Our relations are far from friendly after all," came the response.

"They have no choice in the matter. The Hobgoblins will raid their lairs too if they breach us. They know this much, which is why it\'s imperative we put our differences aside and unite for a single cause."

General Grommash was skeptical. "Those elves have very high pride. I think they wouldn\'t mind waiting for us and the Hobgoblins to kill each other, then finishing off whoever remains."

General Thorgar nodded in agreement. "Or worse, they could attack us from the north, pincering us on both sides."

"There\'s also the possibility that they would invade our lands while we\'re waging war in the south," added General Helliana.

Warchief Kargoth took a deep breath and sighed. He couldn\'t blame his warriors for their mistrust. No matter how noble the Sand Elves portrayed themselves, they were often arrogant and self-serving. The prospect of them waiting out the battle, as General Grommash suggested, was a real threat.

It was a possibility, but Warchief Kargoth prayed fervently to the spirits and the ancestors that the elves would set aside their pride and join forces to defeat the Hobgoblins.

"Don\'t stop delivering messages to them," Warchief Kargoth said in a solemn voice. "We need all the help we can get in this fight."

Thousands of Hobgoblins wouldn\'t pose a significant threat, but a hundred thousand? Even the Warchief wasn\'t sure if they could survive such an onslaught.

No wonder there had been peace in the wasteland for so many years. Who could have guessed that the Hobgoblin King Kraggur was plotting something so diabolical as to conquer all of the wasteland with a hundred thousand Hobgoblins?

Had they stayed hidden in their holes, reproducing like mad? How else could they have achieved such numbers?

When the meeting concluded, Warchief Kargoth asked his daughter to stay behind.

General Helliana remained at her father\'s request. When they were alone, the Warchief gazed into his daughter\'s eyes, his expression heavy with unspoken emotions.

As the only daughter of the Warchief, it was rare for Helliana to witness her father display such vulnerability. Most of the time, he was stern, unyielding, and strict, always demanding perfection in everything.

Because of her father\'s guidance, she had become a strong and respected Hunter within their clan. But now, she saw an old man, the lines on his face deeply etched.

When had her father aged so suddenly?

"Father . . . is something wrong?" Helliana asked, her voice soft with concern.

Warchief Kargoth took a deep breath and sighed. "This battle . . . if things go south, I want you to escape."

Helliana gasped, anger boiling in the pit of her stomach. "What are you saying, Father? I will not flee while everyone is fighting. I will fight till my last breath." She couldn\'t believe that her father was speaking of such nonsense like loosing.

The Warchief\'s face turned serious, his eyes piercing. "Listen to me, child. You\'re my only daughter, next in line to become the Warchief. No matter what happens, you must live and lead our survivors."

Helliana caught her tongue and couldn\'t speak, her mind reeling from his words.

"Without a leader, our people are lost. They need someone to guide them after we\'re gone."

"But, Father . . ."

"You\'re the only one who can do this, Helliana. Our people trust you, and they\'re more comfortable around you now. You\'re ready to lead them. You\'re born for this."

Helliana shook her head, but she couldn\'t utter a word. Her father hugged her tightly. Though Helliana towered over all the women in their clan, her father was still bigger and twice her size.

He was the Warchief, the chieftain, the leader of the Orcs. In most of her life, Helliana had never seen her father lose a battle. He was the strongest in the clan, so there was no way they would be defeated.

There was just no way.

"Promise me, child. You will save yourself if the situation looks dire. You must survive. You must. And you must lead our people. Promise me."

A tear streamed down Helliana\'s cheek as she choked on her words. "Y-yes, Father. I promise."

The words were a vow, a binding oath that weighed heavily on her heart.

As she embraced her father, Helliana felt the gravity of his request. It wasn\'t just a plea for her safety — it was the future of their clan, their people, resting on her shoulders.

The firelight flickered, casting shadows on their faces, as father and daughter stood united in their determination to protect their kin, no matter the cost.